


The Man Who Laughs

by Ready_For_The_Laughing_Gas



Category: Joker (2019)
Genre: Depression, Developing Relationship, F/M, Parenthood, Romance, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Tragedy/Comedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2020-12-14 04:27:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21009710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ready_For_The_Laughing_Gas/pseuds/Ready_For_The_Laughing_Gas
Summary: "Humor is the decency of despair, wouldn't you agree?"Sophie learns to love Arthur, but it isn't enough to save him.





	1. The Elevator

He pressed the elevator button for his floor once again. One couldn't distinguish the floor number anymore, but he knew where to press nonetheless. He did it again and again until the elevator doors slammed shut.

It was half-past six, and Arthur Fleck was tired.

Every month, he went to the pharmacy several blocks away from the apartment. He waited in line, grabbed his bag, and climbed the stairs. Arthur hated the stairs the most. They mocked his every stride and sneered when he reached the top.

Going back to the dilapidated apartment was only made more difficult by the once functioning elevator, now decrepit and brown with dirt. A part of him was sure the old thing was a public hazard. Still, he refused to take the stairs.

_Maybe I should just wait inside. The elevator will just drop one of these days. _

At the thought, the smallest of grins appeared on his face.

"This building, it's terrible isn't it?"

Somebody spoke, Arthur knew that much.

Only upon meeting her gaze did he notice she was speaking to him. Who was she? He couldn't recall seeing her before. He'd remember somebody talking with him.

She had a bag in her hands and a box of milk. An orange bag hung from her other shoulder. She wore a dark red jacket and underneath, a grayish blue shirt. Golden jewelry adorned her neck and ears.

She was beautiful.

Why was she talking to him?

What was he supposed to do? What did people do? He schooled his mouth to imitate a smile for the stranger and looked down at the worn down floor.

_That's what people do. _

Stare all he may, he felt the urge to stare at the stranger. Risking a glance, his eyes found a small girl standing by her side. She couldn't be more than eight years old. But his selfish eyes didn't stop there. With a will of their own, they turned to the stranger. To her.

_Who is she? _

Then, something impossible happened.

He felt the air leave his lungs when one of her hands gently formed a gun. Her eyes didn't leave his as she pressed two fingers to her side and gently blew from her lips. Her fingernails were perfectly manicured, strands of her curls fell over her forehead, her lips and–

Arthur had never felt like this before.

The elevator chimed and the stranger took the little girl's hand. He nearly choked when he realized she lived on his floor. Following behind, he turned the opposite way to his apartment. But he stopped. He needed to talk to her, somehow.

"Hey," the greeting weakly stumbled out of him.

Inwardly, he winced at the sound of it. What was he doing? He didn't know what he was doing but the stranger turned around. She noticed him. She didn't walk away.

_What do people do?_

A million scenarios appeared in his mind. He could say hi. Should he introduce himself instead? Maybe he should walk away and forget this happened. Arthur did the only thing he could do. He made a joke.

Forming a gun with his free hand he pretended to blow his brains out. It was surprisingly easy to do, that is, press the tip of the gun against his temple, funny even. Maybe he should add this to his act. Once he was done, he smiled, a hint of pride swelling inside.

But what would the stranger do? The wait must have lasted less than a second, yet it felt eternal to him. Arthur was ready to run back to the safety of his apartment, and he almost did. Almost. The stranger looked at him for a while, but slowly, the corner of her lips turned into a smile. Then, she turned and opened the door to her apartment.

It was everything he could have hoped for.

It was more.

A rush of feelings overwhelmed him as he shakily turned the keys and opened the door. Closing the door, perhaps too quickly, he allowed his forehead to touch the wall.

He wanted to know everything about her. She lived on the same floor as him. She must be new, how else could they have not met before. Tomorrow he didn't have work. He could accompany her to work, find out where she spends her time and get to know her better. He wants to know her name.

Arthur takes off his vest and throws his medicine bag onto the kitchen counter.

"Arthur, is that you?"

"Yes, mother."

Without thinking too hard, he takes out some food and starts preparing dinner for his mother. He hums as he pours soup onto a plate and he continues humming to himself as he takes the food to his mother's bedroom.

He talks to his mother.

He asks how her day was.

He feeds her.

He did this every day. It should be easy.

Yet, the stranger keeps hijacking his thoughts. Who is she? What is her name? What does she do? He wants to know her. He does.

But most of all, he wants to feel the soft ends of her fingertips firmly pressed against his temple. Sometime during the night, when his mother is fast asleep, Arthur moans to the image of blood pouring out of his head straight into her slender hands.


	2. The Red Nose

The sound of police sirens woke him up. 

Groaning, Arthur sat up and looked around his bed. Sun rays weakly shone through the curtains. His room was rather empty, except for the broken lamp standing in one corner and a number of Playboy magazines scattered across the floor. Still somewhat confused, he slowly felt the veil of sleep lift over his head. 

He leisurely reached for his pants, but suddenly, he realized what he had to do today.

The stranger, how could he forget?

Now in a rush, he grabbed his pants from the floor and fumbled to button up his shirt. He almost tripped over his own feet, but he made it to the kitchen without breaking a bone. Slightly out of breath, he frantically prepared coffee and a snack for his mother. Above the kitchen parlor was the clock.

_ Five in the morning. That's when most people wake up for work. Should be ok. _

"Mom," he whispered while carefully entering her dorm. Her sleeping form lay in the middle of the bed, oblivious to Arthur placing her breakfast on the bedside table. Without another word, he left the room. He knew better than waking her up at this hour. Besides, she liked her coffee cold. 

Taking a deep breath, he felt exhilarated as his mind wandered over to his plans for that morning.

Today, he would get to know _her _better.

Just thinking about her was enough to send chills running through his back. 

He was ready to go when he noticed the trash bags waiting for him at the front door. Nervously, he looked back and forth between the trash and the door. He could leave now and wait for the stranger to leave the building. But he should take out the trash. 

_ Mother won't be happy with the smell if the bags stay any longer. _

And so, Arthur grabbed the bags and headed out. He put the keys in his pocket and looked up, only to stop dead in his tracks. 

There she was, stepping inside the elevator with the little girl. God, he wasn't ready to face her. Instinct screamed at him to just turn around. But he wanted to know her better.

Finding strength in his tired legs, he ran to catch up.

She must have noticed him running because when he made it, her delicate hand kept the elevator doors from closing.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled out the apology and placed himself in the corner.

Arthur couldn't look at her. Last night's memories came flooding in and flushed his cheeks. Shame washed over him and he sought to hide his hands. If he could bury himself in the trash bags, he would. Pressing himself closer to the wall for comfort, he felt an odd pressure against his left leg. Searching his pocket, he took out a bright red nose.

He looked down and was surprised to find the little girl blankly staring at him.

Immediately, he got an idea.

Lifting an eyebrow, he took the spongy red ball and plopped it on his nose. With just a couple of comical gestures, Arthur managed to elicit a giggle from the girl. 

_ There you go, much better now. _

He could have just gone about his business, stare at the elevator buttons. The little girl had laughed. He didn't need to look at _her. _But the stranger wouldn't allow it. His eyes went to her as if she were a magnet. And their eyes met. Immediately, his face went rigid, realization settling in. What if she didn't approve of him approaching her daughter? Had she taken it the wrong way? He couldn't let the same happen to them like on the bus the other day.

Nevertheless, his apology died in his mouth when she smiled at him. The stranger looked down at the little girl and caressed her hair.

No, she didn't seem to mind him at all.

"Do you work as a clown?"

The question threw him off. He hadn't expected to hear her voice. He hadn't expected her to talk to him in the first place. His dreams last night had not gone that far.

Dumbstruck by her boldness, he nodded. 

This was an opportunity. She had started a conversation, right? He couldn't sense a hint of malice in her tone. Her interest had to be genuine. Arthur could talk to her without being weird.

_ I should probably talk. Miss Kane said I have to respond when others address me. _

"What-What about you?"

He tried his best not to sound shy, and yet the words came out clumsy. Arthur resisted the urge to bash his head against the wall behind him. But he didn't. Again, the doctors told him he couldn't do that anymore. 

The stranger seemed surprised by the question.

"Oh, I work at the Gotham City Bank. Not a fun job like yours," she concluded with a slight chuckle.

_Fun. She likes my job. The stranger likes **my** job._

"I work around," he found himself adding. Desperately, he tried to find something she would like. Looking at the little girl, he got an idea.

He said, "I often work at children's hospitals."

The statement seemed to affect her. In a flash, her eyes lit up.

"That's amazing," she said. 

Too soon though, the elevator door chimed.

Arthur stood in the corner as he motioned with his head for the stranger and the little girl to pass.

"I will see you around then," the stranger said while the little girl waved goodbye. 

With the red nose still on, Arthur nodded and watched as the two left the building. 

_ She has brown eyes. _

In his awe, he almost forgot the trash bags inside the elevator. Numb, he walked the short distance to the dumpster in the back of the building. Strange feelings coursed through his veins as he lifted the disposal container.

_ Her brown eyes looked at me. _

He couldn't accompany her to work now. He felt too much, too many strange new things. His head was getting dizzy.

_Shit, my pills. _

He forgot to take his pills. Arthur knew now he definitely couldn't go with her. Sighing, he went back to the elevator. He pressed the button for his floor, his thoughts consumed by the brown eyed stranger.


	3. The Milk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just quickly wanted to thank everyone for supporting this story.

They meet almost every morning.

He now makes sure to check the mail in the morning instead. Sometimes Arthur is throwing away the trash. Sometimes he has to go to work. Sometimes he has nothing else to do. 

They don't say much to each other, and he never fulfills his plans of accompanying her to work. He never learns her name. But that's alright.

She sees him.

Being around the stranger is a lot. Yet, he longs for her. He thinks of her throughout the night. He has her morning routine memorized.

Sometimes, the morning is all he has.

The therapist does her best, but he doesn't feel comfortable around her. His colleagues...could be better. Still, work is work. Mother needs him to take care of him. And of course, his joke book is not going to write itself.

Arthur and the stranger have a delicate routine, but it's all he has.

It is late at night when he hears soft knocks on his door. At first, he thinks he is imagining it, but the fifth knock forces him to stand up. He closes his joke book and warily walks to open the door. On the way, he checks the hour.

Eight o'clock.

_ Police? _

Upon opening the door, however, he sees the stranger nervously playing around with her sweater and a colorful mug in hand. Her eyes land on him and she lets out a relieved sigh. 

"Thank goodness it's you. I mistakenly woke up another man next door. I am sorry to be bothering you at this hour, but..."

Arthur stood still, not knowing what to do with himself. Should he invite her in? Should he keep his hand on the door frame? What is he wearing? Her eyes were red. Was something wrong?

"...my daughter, she–she can't sleep. I just wanted to ask if you'd be willing to lend me some of your milk for her."

_ Milk. _

The word vaguely resonated within Arthur's head.

_ She needs milk. _

Nodding, he stood aside. At the suggestion, the stranger's arms crossed.

"I don't mean to impose more than I already am."

"You're not," he said, surprising himself. 

The stranger paused for a moment and briefly looked behind him, before meekly lowering her head.

"Thank you," the stranger muttered when she entered his apartment. As for Arthur, he was ready to pass out. Steadying his nerves, he led her to the kitchen, which wasn't a particularly long trek.

He doesn't know what propels him forward, but he feels relief when he sees a box of milk hidden in the back of the fridge. With slightly trembling hands, he took out the box and showed it to her.

"God, I don't," the stranger blushed, "I don't need the whole box. I have my daughter's mug, I'll just pour the milk here."

Looking down, Arthur saw the mug was heavily decorated with bright neon green markers and purple glitter. 

"You can have the box," he shrugged, "My mother drinks mostly coffee anyway."

The stranger hesitated but shook her head.

"I can't accept this. What about you?"

At the question, Arthur froze. Him? Did he even drink milk?

"I'll be fine," he pushed the box onto her hands, "Take it."

The stranger stared at the box and slowly, her eyes went up to his. Suddenly, the air shifted. Arthur didn't know what it was, whether it was her expression or just him, but something changed. 

"Thank you," she whispered and gently took the box. "Truly, thank you. I will pay you back hopefully by next week."

She started walking to the front door with Arthur following closely behind.

"You don't have to," Arthur said once she was nearly out of the apartment, "Times are hard for everyone."

And then she turned around, her eyes unreadable.

_ Fuck. _

Did he mess up? What did he say? He said nothing wrong. He's trying to help. She probably couldn't afford the milk. That's why she came to him. She knows him. She trusted him enough.

_ But why is she so quiet? She's not smiling. What hav**e I d**one? What have y_o**u** done_ this_ tim_e? Great. G_r**e**_**at** job. C_o**_ng_**ra_tulat_**io**_**ns**, yo**u**_ **fu**c_kin**g**– _

"Thank you," she said after a long silence. She smiled, differently this time. It wasn't happy or amused or friendly. It was different.

She began walking to her place and turned her head.

"My name is Sophie, by the way. Don't hesitate to knock if you're in need."

And the stranger–_Sophie _–closed her door.

_ Sophie. _

The name softly reverberates across the hall. He didn't realize he said it out loud. 

'Don't hesitate to knock if you're in need.'

He repeats the sentence in his head as he prepares dinner for his mother.

"Murray is about to go on," his mother announces from her bedroom but she receives no reply.

"Arthur, Murray is about to go on," she says a bit louder. But like before, she receives no response. She calls him a third time. But by then the show has already started, and she quickly forgets about him. When he feeds her, he watches the latest episode, but he doesn't _see_ it.

When the show was over, Arthur sat on the couch staring blankly at the ceiling. A languid smile adorned his face as he closed his eyes.

_So her name is Sophie._


	4. The Help

Sophie is curious. 

Gotham has many things: thugs, criminals, corrupt politicians, sluggish nurses, reckless truck drivers, annoyed customers. Yet, the city managed to surprise her.

The neighbor.

He reminded her there were still decent people in this town. He had been generous enough to lend her his milk. The other day, Gigi's face lit up upon seeing him in full clown regalia. A friendly face could always be found in him.

And so, when she spots his bright green hair, Sophie saves the elevator for him. She smiles and presses the elevator button for their floor. He doesn't look at her today though.

He doesn't smile at all.

She doesn't know why it bothers her. They may not speak to each other much, but she feels obligated to ask:

"Hey, what's up?"

Her touch seemed to burn him. He jumped to the other side and fiercely held his bag against his chest. Sophie doesn't know what she's done, but she's scared. Scared of him, of herself, she doesn't know. His eyes are wild, unhinged. Both his legs are trembling, and it takes her a second to spot the red smear covering his chin.

The elevator door chimed, and he raced out of the small space.

He's been hurt, that much she knew, and nothing in her being would allow her to let him go home like that.

"Wait!" She walked quickly towards him, "I mean no harm! It's me, Sophie."

He fumbled with his keys, but something she said seemed to calm him. 

For a minute, they just stand there. Her neighbor struggled to control his breath and stared at his door, but he didn't enter. He stood there, completely and utterly paralyzed.

Sophie did not attempt to touch him this time, she just walked closer to him. She opened her mouth, ready to say his name, but no sound came out.

Good god, she didn't know his name.

Guilt immediately washed over her at the realization. How could she not even know his name? As much as she berated herself, however, she still moved closer. He needed somebody to look at him.

"I won't hurt you," she said as she stopped right next to him. 

Taking a leap of faith, she put a hand on his shoulder. Sophie nearly jumped back when he moved, but he didn't push her way: he winced. Worriedly, she looked down at his haphazard clothing and smeared clown makeup.

"Why don't we go inside?" Sophie gently asked.

Silently, the neighbor nodded and unlocked the door to his apartment. They walk over to his couch and she helps him sit down as he hisses at the uncomfortable movement. It is then that Sophie remembers a first aid kit she has somewhere in her bathroom cabinet.

"Hold tight. I'll be back in a second," she said and waited for him to nod before moving away. 

She hurriedly entered her flat and rushed to the bathroom. Checking underneath the sink, she found the small white box hidden behind various cleaning supplies.

"Mommy, what are you doing?"

Startled, Sophie nearly bumped her head against the bathroom sink.

"Mommy has to go help a friend. I will be back soon, okay?"

Sophie kissed Gigi on the forehead and almost got out. Almost.

"Mommy?"

"Yes, baby?" 

"I don't want to be alone."

Sophie didn't have much time to think. She didn't want to leave her neighbor in such a state of distress for too long. But did she feel comfortable taking her daughter to a stranger's house? At the end of the day, she barely knew this man. Sophie should have known better though, because the moment Gigi's eyes looked up, the decision was made.

Sighing, she took Gigi's hand and led her to the neighbor's apartment.

As they entered the apartment, Arthur contemplated the different ways he could fling himself out the window. It wouldn't help much since the trash bags at the bottom could somehow break his fall. Still, he considered it. He just wanted the pain to stop. Just for once.

So when he sees Sophie, he feels something other than pain. However, that brief burst of joy dissipates the moment his eyes land on the little girl.

Instantly, he shies away from them, even if his muscles scream at him for it. He is used to seeing them in the elevator. It is a familiar yet inoffensive place. But this is his place. Sophie was already too much. The robbers from earlier were too much. He didn't know if the robbers had taken anything. He had nothing.

It was all too much and Arthur didn't have the time to warn her before the laugh bubbled up in his throat. His shoulders shook as he attempted to cover his mouth with his arm. And he tried. He tried so hard.

His chest contracted with pain, his whole body spasming with the forcefulness of the laughter crawling its way out.

_ Please, stop._

The affliction left after several painful seconds, and then, silence reigned in the living room. Arthur didn't want to look up. He didn't want to move at all.

Somewhere in the distance, he felt hands touch his cheeks.

Sophie held up his head and looked at his eyes.

He tried to look down again, but she didn't allow it.

With her fingers cupping his face, he closed his eyes and heard the sound of a gun go off in his head. He was just so tired.

"Are you better now?"

The sound of her voice brought him back to life. Unable to speak, he simply inclined his head.

Sophie didn't understand what just happened. She knew asking about it would only make him more uncomfortable. Without a word, she placed a first aid kid next to him and started taking out supplies. 

"What's wrong with Mr. Clown?" Gigi asked quietly, still standing where she and her mother had been.

Sophie didn't understand what had happened. She was sure asking about it would only make him more uncomfortable. No, she wouldn't ask unless he felt comfortable sharing.

"Not now Gigi."

She is taking out bandages when she feels a nudge. Surprised, she sees her neighbor with his arm outstretched and a card in hand.

**'...medical condition causing sudden, frequent, uncontrollable laughter...'**

Sophie silently hands him back the card and continued tacking out a soothing cream from the kit. She is calm even if in the back of her mind, she contemplates the enormity of his act.

Clutching her plush toy, Gigi walked over to Arthur and her mother.

"Mr. Clown, are you ok?"

Arthur didn't know what to say.

_Why are they still here? My-that should have scared them away._

"Mr. Clown will be fine. He just had a long day, baby. Now, let mommy take care of him while you watch TV? Wheelie and the Chopper Bunch is just about to start."

Sophie looked at Arthur for approval before going over to turn on the TV. Excited, Gigi plopped down on the nearest armchair.

The surreal quality of the scene was not lost on Arthur.

Sophie's daughter was watching a cartoon show in his living room. Sophie was unbuttoning his shir–

"What are you doing?" Arthur felt his heart rate escalate exponentially as he stopped her hands.

In turn, Sophie felt her cheeks heat up for some reason.

"I need to take a look at your injuries to bandage them. That ok?"

There was nothing Arthur could do. How could he say no to her? He couldn't say no. Not to her. Without a word, he willingly submitted himself to Sophie's hands soothing his bruises away.

He was sure his brain shut down every time her neck came within inches of his face. Dazed and confused, he repressed a moan as her leg brushed his inner thigh.

_Why is she still here?_

_Why hasn't she left?_

"What's your name?"

Her whisper startled him.

_What is my name?_

_Why do you care?_

"Arthur-My name it's...Arthur."

For the first time in a while, Sophie is curious. 

Gotham has many things: thugs, criminals, corrupt politicians, sluggish nurses, reckless truck drivers, annoyed customers. Yet, the city managed to surprise her with Arthur. A friendly face could always be found in him. And so, when she spots his bright green hair the morning after, Sophie saves the elevator for him.

"Good morning," she says and this time, he smiles back.


	5. The Invitation

Arthur doesn't know how long he has been standing there. Five, ten, twenty minutes? An eternity? It's taking him too much time, and he knows he must make a decision soon. Murray was about to go on, and he promised mother he wouldn't miss the show again.

For the last couple of weeks, he had missed the show because he was busy catching up with Sophie. Four days ago, he helped Sophie with Gigi's present. With his help, they found a perfect hiding spot for the gift. At first, Arthur was confused as to why they were hiding her toy. But then Sophie told him that Christmas was just around the corner.

Raising his eyes upwards, Arthur nervously muttered to himself before knocking on Door B.

_ This is not weird. Men do this all the time. _

It takes her a minute to open up, but she does and he wants the floor to swallow him whole before he makes a fool of himself. 

Sophie's eyes widen in surprise when she notices it is him.

He has rehearsed this at least five times this afternoon. With no work today and his therapist appointment canceled, he was able to practice all day. Occasionally, he had to stop and prepare food for mom. But no amount of preparation prepared him for the real thing.

"Hey Arthur, how are you?"

Arthur opened and closed his mouth, desperately trying to remember how words worked.

_ Calm down. She doesn't hate you. Gigi doesn't hate you either. Gigi even likes it when you wear the big blue shoes. _

And so as a child reaches out to his mother for the first time, Arthur searched for the courage he needed to ask Sophie out on a date.

"Pogo's having a show next week, you would like me to come?"

Sophie's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and Arthur gripped his fists so tightly that his fingers turned white.

_ For fuck's sake. _

"No. I meant-I-damn it," he swore under his breath. 

Sophie stopped herself from smiling, knowing he would take it the wrong way. She really wasn't laughing at him. He was adorable, but she wasn't about to say that out loud any time soon.

Taking several deep breaths, he summoned up his courage again.

_ Sophie doesn't hate you. She took care of you. She talks to you. _

"I am having a show next week at Pogo's...would...you like to come by?"

At last, the words were out, and now he had to wait.

Sophie doesn't think twice.

"Yeah, I can make it."

The answer comes out light and airy, very different from how constricted her chest feels right now. But after she speaks, she notices his eyes widen with a glint she had not seen before. It's as if her words breathed new life into his face. A soft pink blush adorned his cheeks as he grinned.

He didn't look at Arthur at all. But maybe this was the real Arthur, shining through the cracks.

The change is instantaneous and Sophie _ knows _.

She keeps her calm though and doesn't let the sound of her beating heart distract her.

"Ok."

Arthur says. What else could he say?

That he'd never felt like this before? That he wanted to hug her? That he can't believe she talks to him? That this is the happiest he has felt in a long time? That he will gladly miss Murray just to keep spending time with her?That he wants nothing more than to invite her inside and-and...


	6. The After Show

Sophie doesn't know what to do. A part of her wants to hug him. Another says she shouldn't. Not when he is trembling so much. She also doesn't know what to say about his show. What could she say?

Arthur's humor is...difficult to understand.

At least for people like her. He wasn't like the rest of them, in more ways than one. That much she knew.

But what to do about the trembling man sitting next to her?

They were still sitting outside of Pogo's, way past Gigi's bedtime.

_Damnit._

They need to head home soon so she moves closer to touch him, but instead her knee brushes against his and you'd think he'd just gotten burnt.

"I'm-I'm sorry," she stutters and retreats back, "I just need to get home, my daughter has school tomorrow-"

Without a word, he stood up and started walking away from her. It takes her a second or two until she is able to put her bag on her shoulder and catch up to him in her heels. She asks him to wait for her, but he doesn't. She also has his coat with her, since he forgot it on the pavement floor.

When they're on the train, he doesn't say a word and she fights the urge to speak as she sits down by him. Somehow the train lights make the shadows under his eyes darker. Sophie feels the stares on her back when they get off in their stop.

She hopes Gigi had a fun time with her friend Alicia, the daughter of their neighbor downstairs. 

_I need to thank Cathy for taking care of Gigi while I was_ gone.

For once, he does acknowledge her presence when he holds the door open to their building for her.

"Thank you," she says and is met with more silence.

The hallway to their apartments becomes longer as they stand in front of the elevator. Arthur is fidgeting and he doesn't seem to know what to do either.

"Your show," those words seem to force his eyes to meet hers, "Everyone is nervous around crowds. Next time you can try some new material. You can practice with me if that helps."

Sophie is desperately grasping for words and hastily stitching them together in the hopes that a coherent sentence comes out. There is something deeply unnerving about the way that he keeps starring at her, with a stillness that almost stops her mid-sentence.

But he nods. She doesn't know what he is nodding to, but it's some sort of response and she will take what she is given. It has been a rough night.

Arthur turns around and Sophie takes that as her cue to leave.

The apartment is quiet when she enters, the TV is off, the cakes are still in their jar, and Gigi is sound asleep.

_I really need to thank Cathy._

She does her best to put away her coat without knocking over Gigi's bag. After taking off her heels, she sighs in relief. Running in heels is never a good idea.

In her bedroom, she takes off the clothes stained with city smog and god know what else.

Once in the bath, her thoughts swam in between her legs. Sophie didn't want to say it, felt even ashamed to think it, but there was something wrong with Arthur.

She couldn't quite put her finger on it before. Sometimes when he talked with Gigi, or when he said hi, or when he was just standing there. Maybe she just didn't want to fall into the trap of labeling him something just because he is different. 

But after the show, she walked out with the nagging feeling that she was right. Arthur had something. He kept laughing the entire time he tried to do his act. It wasn't a nervous laugh. Not at all. It was distinctly painful, marred with raspy coughs and strangled breaths.

That was it.

Arthur's laugh bothered her.

Sometimes she saw him laugh forcibly when Gigi made a face. It felt staged and carefully rehearsed. Unnatural. Unnatural just as his breakdown on the stage. Sophie closed her eyes as she submerged herself in the bath. She felt the urge to distance herself and her daughter from him.

_Stop it. You can't ostracize the poor man just because he might have a weird relationship with laughter._

And yet, why shouldn't she be worried. Wasn't it more than reasonable to do so? This is Gotham. Anything is possible.

Kind Arthur, sometimes odd, might be dangerous.

Shaking her head, she dries herself with an old towel.

_He is just different. Forget about it._


End file.
